Hoosier Poet

Thursday, March 5, 2026

Worms on the Blacktop

Worms on the Blacktop

The rain drew them out
like lost souls looking for light
finding only pain.

Wednesday, March 4, 2026

Sorting

Sorting

I woke up feeling heavy,
mentally so, not fat, though I am…
Like I am under water, and the air presses against me,
squeezing,
tightening tighter and tighter…

It doesn’t help that the sun is gone,
behind the clouds,
if it is there at all.
If I am here at all.
Am I still dreaming, you think?

Did the world end?

Was it us?
Was it Israel?

My family is here, so it isn't hell,
But I am here, so it isn't heaven.

Did Cern start up?
Did they rip the fabric again?
Did that weird assed fog I saw yesterday roll in?

The sky doesn’t look right.
I don’t feel right.
If so much is wrong, then I should know…
…right?

A pinch.
A slap.
A cup or two of coffee…

No startling awake scene follows.

I think I exist, so perhaps?

So, heavy as I am,
energy warbled,
and aura off kilter
all around out of sorts,
I face the day.
If it is the day…